


Dead Silence

by canisspiritus (renardroi)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, parvill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2463080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renardroi/pseuds/canisspiritus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strife's been gone for a while, so Parvis checks in on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Silence

Sleep has a funny way of sneaking up on him. Typically he stays awake for somewhere around 30 to 40 hours before he dozes off, sat against a wall, leaning against machinery, or asleep at his desk. It's not like he doesn’t feel tired after being awake for 20 or so hours, it's just that he powers through it, until his exhaustion overcomes him. He works like a machine, noticing his proverbial batteries are low when his yawns became more frequent or he starts to rub his eyes. He simply adjusts though, double-checking and triple-checking his work when he's tired. It takes longer to get things done, but he has time. He prefers accuracy, no mistakes, he doesn’t like coming back to what's supposed to be a finished project.

The inconvenient parts of quite literally passing out during work are just that though, when he wakes again he has to pick up the pieces. Unfinished machinery is accident prone, and more than that Strife has to recall what exactly he’d been doing, after 6 or so hours of sleep. He loathes to sleep. There's nothing more frustrating than losing control of his own person, being unable to finish the projects he's been working on.

He doesn’t quite mean to, but he befriends Parvis, who’s a handful, to say the least. He’s reckless and immature and can be a huge idiot, but Strife knows he’s not as stupid as he seems. Parv’s manipulative, cunning, and surprisingly capable. It’s these traits that Will pretends not to notice, pretends that they don’t remind him a little of himself.

It’s not really a “friendship” but more of a comfortable symbiosis, they use each other for their own benefit. Strife needs time off from his projects, and Parv needs someone to build things for him and clean up after him. It's kind of like how bacteria in your gut helps you digest food, and in return gets an all they can eat buffet.

Parv’s like intestinal bacteria.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

And while it’s generally a mutually beneficial arrangement, Strife has never really expected Parv to do anything even in the realm of friendly. Parv invites him over to clean up after that bloody pickaxe, makes sure Will’s not dead so he can have someone fight off hordes of creepy mer-people or whatever, but it’s always because Parv needs him, and, even then, it doesn’t seem like he’s willing to put too much effort into it.

So when Strife falls asleep against a crafting station, copper wiring and other tech still clutched in his hands, and he wakes up to Parv’s obnoxious voice shouting at him, he’s more than a little confused.

“What are you doing here?” He manages as he rubs his eyes into wakefulness. “Did the witches get loose or something?”

“No!” Parv says indignantly, “I –“

“Parvis, I told you to get rid of that fucking pickaxe, you’re not supposed to use –“

“I didn’t break anything!” Parv shouts at him. Then amends, “Recently.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

There’s a moment of silence as Parvis stares at him, Will only feeling increasingly confused. Concern touches Parv’s face, drawing his eyebrows together and the corners of his mouth down. It’s not really an emotion he’s seen on Parv, the closest thing to it might be annoyance or frustration when rituals and tech don’t work ‘right’ because he’s failed to research them. Seeing this now, on him, Will’s not sure how to feel about it.

Finally, Parv disturbs the silence. He has his arms crossed and his eyes are wandering around the room. “Where have you been?”

Will gently put his things down, and stands. His clothes are mussed and wrinkled, he’s in desperate need of shower, and he’s baffled that Parv is here. Without any idea of how to respond, he doesn’t. Where has he been? It seems like such a strange question. He’s been here, at Parv’s too, he’s been working hard on his tower and occasionally taking time to help Parv dig himself a grave with blood magic. That’s where he’s been.

“What have you been doing?”

Will vaguely gestures towards his crafting station, the sneaking feeling that perhaps he’s done something wrong. He pulls himself together and clears his throat. “Parvis, what do you want? I’m working on stuff.”

“I was just – I just, uhm…” Parv watches him carefully, then seems to make a decision. “I just hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“So you came looking for me?” Will gives him a dubious look.

Parv makes a frustrated sound. “It’s been three weeks.”

Will _is_ surprised by that. It’s never been that long before.

He puts his things back down on the crafting station and leans against it, sighing. Three weeks. He’s going to have to check his machines, his calendar, figure out what else he’s lost in that amount of time. His tower is high-maintenance, and he knows that, because he’s got massive amounts of needy, particular machines. Something’s probably broken, backflow in the sorting system likely.

“Will?”

He glances at Parv, and looks a little surprised that he’s still standing there. Will can’t help but sound annoyed. “What, Parv?”

Parvis doesn’t respond at first, only stands there staring as Will puts away his things and cleans himself off. When he finishes, there’s a small minute as they examine each other, seemingly trying to figure each other out. Neither of them find comprehension simply from the other’s appearance, though, but Will decides not to ask again, keeps his questions to himself.

Parv, on the other hand…

“What have you been doing?” He presses, and it’s then that Will realizes that Parv is unconsciously blocking him in. Will had fallen asleep in the corner, but Parv’s standing significantly in the way of Will’s exit.

Will isn’t a tactile person, he’s always thought his skin was overly sensitive. He doesn’t enjoy or experience the world through touch; he works with his gloves on and loves to wear long sleeves, and hats, and anything to cover his skin up. But Parv’s trapped him and hovering closer and he swears he can feel the blood mage’s breath against his jawline, like the premonition of a touch. He clears his throat and looks down at his hands.

“Uh,” he says, still hesitating even though he’s decided to tell him. “I guess I don’t know.”

Dead silence. Or, nearly dead silence. Tortured, bleeding silence. He thinks Parvis isn’t breathing but he doesn’t really know because he doesn’t dare look up. He admires the stitching in his gloves, the wear in the creases, the ground beneath him, his clothes; subtly and carefully, trying not to draw any more attention to himself.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” It comes out measured and slow, like Parv’s trying really hard not to sound – angry? Annoyed?

Will sighs, breathing in and expanding, breathing out and his body feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, turning into a deadly black hole. He shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, but he can’t hide himself from the person standing directly in front of him. “I don’t remember.”

Parvis asks the obvious question, “Why?”

He doesn’t answer, can’t answer. The words perch on his lips, barely parted, and they vibrate against his teeth, making his spine ache in discomfort. He’s certain he looks ridiculous, taking breaths meant for speaking, and forcing them into frustrated sighs. Disappointed sighs. He’s pretty sure they stand there for an entire minute, both waiting for something. Nothing happens.

Will’s sighs are met by Parv’s one, louder and worried. His hand touches Will’s arm, testing the water. And then he slowly reels Will into the warmth of his arms. Parv’s chest is too hot, his chin on his head is a little painful, and his arms are a little too loose for this kind of hug, but Will turns into it and lets himself breathe normally. Only the breathing turns into dry sobbing against Parvis’ shoulder, and he’s utterly disgusted with this display of emotions, chalks it up to having just realized he’s been out for three damn weeks.

“Why don’t I move in for a while?” Will appreciates that he says it quietly, because even though his breathing is ragged and loud in his ear, he can still hear him clearly. He appreciates that he doesn’t say what they both know needs to be done.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, this is kind of an open ended interpretation thing going on but if you REALLY need to know what's happening I got two suggestions for you. 
> 
> A) Blood magic.  
> B) An end to respawns. 
> 
> Do with that what you will?


End file.
